Jack saw his Mom in her room, crying on the bed. He figured it was something his Dad should handle. He walked down to the basement where his Dad was working out. "Hey, Dad. Y'know Mom's been cryin'?"

"No," Danny put the weight down and wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Why?"

"I dunno. I figured you'd wanna talk to her."

"Yeah. Okay, thanks for telling me."

"You're welcome."

Danny pulled his T-shirt over his head and headed into the kitchen. He took a quick swig of beer, then headed upstairs to check on Linda. "Babe?" He asked, hoping it was just her hormones.

"I'm scared, Danny," Linda stared out the window, her back to Danny and arms crossed. Her tears were racing down her face, but she managed to talk smoothly. "I'm scared that every time you go out that door, I'll never see you again. That every smile, every hug will be the last. That every kiss, every word will be the last. I'm scared that every 'I love you' will be the last I ever hear you say. I'm scared to get that call in the night, a robotic voice saying, 'we regret to inform you that your husband has been shot. We're very sorry, but he didn't make it'," Linda mocked the voice that always told her Danny had been hurt. "I'm scared that every Sunday dinner will be the last. That I'll have to go to sleep by myself, knowing you won't climb in bed next to me later on. I'm scared that every time we make love will be the last time." She hung her head, her tears choking her.

"Wanna know a secret?" Danny stood a few feet behind Linda.

"What?"

"I'm just as scared as you."

Linda turned around, "really?"

"Honest. I think about all those things when we're chasing perps or in sticky situations. But every time, before I go head first into those things, I think about you. And the boys. And how your world would flip upside down. I think about you every night and day. I think, 'I have to make it home. Even if it's not in one piece. I have to make it home'."

"How do you deal with that fear?" Linda wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

"Every day I pray that I come home to you. And those boys. Every day, when I'm sitting at the first stop light, I pray that I'll come home, even if it's with something broken or without an arm or a leg. Just that at the end of the day, that I'm breathing on my own. And every day, my prayers are answered," Danny hugged his wife and kissed her cheek.

"I pray you to come home, too."

"Then we have proof that God answers prayers."

Linda smiled, "you're so wise."

"Not really. Wanna drink?" He put his arm around her shoulder.

"I could use one."

Danny and Linda headed to the kitchen for a beer, feeling like they got a huge burden off their chests.